


1x13 Coda

by sconesandtextingandmurder



Category: How to Get Away with Murder
Genre: 1x13, 1x13 coda, Ficlet, M/M, spoilers for 1x13
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sconesandtextingandmurder/pseuds/sconesandtextingandmurder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A coda to episode 1x13.</p>
<p>But he can’t tell Connor that.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  Things are still so delicate, so fragile.  Yes, Connor is doing so much better, but sometimes Oliver still sees that look in his eye, like a trapped animal.  He sees the panic lurking right under the surface and he knows that Connor has never been completely honest with him. There’s no way Oliver will add to the weight Connor already shoulders.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1x13 Coda

Oliver wakes just a few hours after he’s fallen asleep.  He tries to sits up, but is jerked to stop by his shirt twisted beneath him, the cuff still hooked around one wrist. He’s somewhere on the spectrum between drunk and sober, the pulse pounding in his ears not quite yet the throbbing pain of a hangover.  After untangling himself, he sits on the edge of the bed to gather his bearings, then stands and moves across the darkened room on unsteady legs.

He uses the bathroom and brushes his teeth, cupping a hand under the faucet to drink an unsatisfying mouthful of tepid water.  

He makes his way out of his room, moving confidently through the familiar space in the dark even without his glasses.  He’s just about to flip on the kitchen light when a soft snore stops him.

Connor is still here, asleep on the couch.

Oliver freezes, his hand on the switch, his stomach lurching as he remembers last night.   _Connor turned him down._

_No, wait._

_Connor didn’t take advantage of him._  

But Connor kissed him, he remembers, as he summons up the hot slide of their mouths.  A warmth floods through Oliver even as he stands in the chilly kitchen in only his underwear.

Quietly, he fills a glass with cold water from the dispenser, gulping down half of it before refilling it and walking to the living room.  In the dim blue light from the DVD player, he can just make out Connor lying on his back, the blanket trailing off his shoulder.  Oliver perches on the arm of the couch, sipping his water.

Connor took him to meet his friends.  Connor didn’t drink a single drop even though they spent the evening at a bar (and Connor’s friends made sure Oliver’s glass was never empty).

Connor is trying so hard.  He’s doing so well.  

Looking down at Connor, Oliver lets the thought that’s been swimming around the periphery of his brain solidify into words.

_I love you_ , he thinks, the words taking up space in his chest.

But he can’t tell Connor that.  Not now.  Maybe not ever.  Things are still so delicate, so fragile.  Yes, Connor is doing so much better, but sometimes Oliver still sees that look in his eye, like a trapped animal.  He sees the panic lurking right under the surface and he knows that Connor has never been completely honest with him. There’s no way Oliver will add to the weight Connor already shoulders.

Connor shifts in his sleep and the blanket slips a little further.  Oliver reaches over to tug it back into place and tuck it securely around him.  He lays a hand on Connor’s forehead, brushing back his hair and Connor sighs and tips his chin down to lean into the touch.  Oliver lets his hand linger for a moment, rubbing his thumb in small circles.  Then he replaces his hand with a kiss, before he and his water glass head back to his room.  


End file.
